


Brought to Heel

by roebling



Category: B.A.P, K-pop
Genre: Blow Jobs, Light Dom/sub, M/M, Notfic, Pet Names, Twitter Fic, kids not knowing what they're doing
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-03-25
Updated: 2014-03-25
Packaged: 2018-01-16 22:51:31
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,090
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1364677
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/roebling/pseuds/roebling
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Youngjae is sick of Daehyun being a brat. Daehyun just wants to know he's doing the right thing.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Brought to Heel

**Author's Note:**

> This started out life as a silly ridiculous dumb quick porn thing on twitter and is only /just slightly/ more like a real fic now. NOT VERY MUCH THOUGH. It's not been beta-read and I am sure there are errors (and what's more I don't care!). I don't think this reads as dub-con but if you want more information let me know. just goofy porn from twitter, pretty much.

Daehyun scoots across the couch, slides his hand along the inside of Youngjae’s thigh and normally, that would be invitation enough. 

But. 

“No,” Youngjae says, scowling. He crosses his legs. He’s sick of Daehyun saying whatever he wants in the heat of the moment and not even _thinking_ this words might merit an apology. It had been the same old thing that afternoon: an interviewer posing some inane question about the ‘visual of the group’; Himchan putting Youngjae’s name forward; embarrassing and unnecessary explanations; and then Daehyun, butting in like the big stupid ass he is. 

Not everything is about Jung Daehyun, as shocking as that might seen. Youngjae laughs the insults off, but he’s mad. Mad. He’s sick of Daehyun assuming he can just say whatever he wants and not face any consequences. 

“What’s wrong?” Daehyun asks suspiciously.

Youngjae scowls. “I’m angry at you, idiot. I didn’t think I needed to take out a full page ad for you to realize it.” 

Daehyun rolls his eyes, says halfheartedly, “Youngjae, come on. You know I was just kidding around. I’m sorry.” 

And no. Just. No. Youngjae is sick of Daehyun’s apologizes. He’s sick of Daehyun thinking he can do whatever he wants. Daehyun needs to grow up and stop acting like an ass. Until he does, he can get off by himself. 

“No,” Youngjae says, crossing his arms over his chest and turning away. “You need to do better than that, Daehyun.” 

Daehyun makes puppy dog eyes at him for a moment but _that_ stopped being effective years ago. Youngjae pointedly ignores him.

“Youngjae-ya,” Daehyun says. “Yoo Youngjaeeeee. We don’t have that long before everyone comes homeeeeee. Don’t you want to --” 

“No!” Youngjae says, scowling. “No, I don’t, Daehyun. Go away.” 

Daehyun frowns uglily. “Fine,” he says. “I will!” 

He jumps up and storms away and Youngjae can’t help but feel a little satisfied. Let’s see, he thinks, how long it takes him to come back, begging. 

Not, as it turns out, too long. Youngjae ignores him all week, polite but distant. Everyone notices something is up but nobody says anything. They’re all used to the vocal line’s arguments. Daehyun gets more frustrated as the week wears on. He fidgets in meetings and drapes himself over Jongup’s back in an interview -- like that kind of childish behavior is going to make Youngjae reconsider. 

Please. He’s got more self control than that. 

By the next time they’re alone in the dorm again Daehyun is furious and antsy. It’s not sexual frustration; he can jerk off in the shower if he needs to. Youngjae knows. They’ve all been there. It’s just that Jung Daehyun is the world’s sorest loser. 

Youngjae is sitting in the living room watching someone on the television when Daehyun comes in and drops onto the couch beside him. 

“Okay,” Daehyun says. “I figure it’s time we drop the charade. You’re not really mad at me, are you? You’re just trying to like --” He waves his hands. “-- prove some kind of a point. It’s fine. I’ve got it.”

Youngjae ignores him. There’s nothing that makes Daehyun more angry. 

“Okay, okay,” Daehyun says. “I know I should be better about shooting my mouth off but I’m trying to be entertaining. We’re supposed to be good at variety, aren’t we? I only meant it as a joke!” 

Youngjae picks up the remote and changes the channel on the television.

“Youngjae, come on! This is stupid! What do you want me to do? I already apologized. You’re making this into some big thing and it’s not.” 

Youngjae stares up at the ceiling. 

Daehyun makes a choked, frustrated noise. “What do you want me to do? What? Just tell me. I’ll do anything.” 

“Anything?” Youngjae asks, grinning and turning toward Daehyun. 

Now, Daehyun looks a little uneasy, but he’s never been one to back down. “Anything,” he says. 

Youngjae grins. “Fine,” he says. “I want you to beg.” 

Daehyun sits back, wrinkles his nose. “What?” 

“Beg,” Youngjae says. He stands up. It feels good, catching Daehyun off guard like this. “Get on your knees, and beg me to forgive you.” 

“Hey,” Daehyun says, “I’m not doing that. I meant I’d do something _regular_ , like suck you off or whatever.” 

“You can do that too,” Youngjae says. “But first I want you to beg.” 

The struggle is writ on Daehyun’s face. He grimaces, all wrinkles, and turns bright red. “You’re terrible,” he says.

Youngjae shrugs. 

Daehyun’s scowl gets deeper. “Fine,” he says. “I’ll _beg_.” 

Youngjae stays standing where he is. He spreads his feet a little. Daehyun gets to his knees awkwardly, uncomfortable in too tight jeans. Kneeling there, everything in his posture is defiant: shoulders thrown back, arms tense at his side, spine stiff. 

“Sorry,” he spits. 

Youngjae shakes his head. 

Daehyun closes his eyes and takes a few deep breaths. “Okay,” he says. “Youngjae, I am so sorry and I promise I won’t do it again. Please forgive me.” 

“What?” Youngjae says. “What won’t you do again, Daehyun?” He can’t deny he gets a little thrill from this. 

“I won’t say stupid things in interviews any more,” Daehyun mutters. 

Youngjae rolls his eyes. “Hey,” he says. “I’m not asking for the impossible. What specifically won’t you do, Daehyun?” 

Daehyun shrugs. His nose is wrinkled and he looks all kind of unhappy. He tries again. “I won’t say _really, really_ stupid things in …” 

“No,” Youngjae says, sharply. Daehyun shuts right up. “You know what you did wrong.” 

Daehyun frowns, mulishly. “Fine,” he mutters. “I won’t say rude things about you --” 

“It’s not about _me_ , Daehyun,” Youngjae says. He folds his arms over his chest. “It’s about you not respecting people. About you acting like a rotten, spoiled little brat.” 

Daehyun is furious. Youngjae can see it in the tense trembling line of his shoulders, in his bright pink ears, in the terrible, petulant set of his mouth. “Sorry,” he mumbles. “Sorry, Youngjae. Please forgive me.” 

Daehyun feels stupid and angry and wants more than anything to kiss the annoying smirk off Youngjae’s face. He’s so smug, so self satisfied, so utterly sure he’s right. Daehyun never feels that sure. 

“I knew you were smart enough to figure it out,” Youngjae says. “Good boy.” 

Daehyun swallows. Youngjae’s tone is soft, and less smug now. It feels kind of good, actually, to hear Youngjae say that. He doesn’t want much more than to hear Youngjae say he’s doing well, doing the right thing. He closes his eyes, suddenly spent, and leans forward so his cheek is pressed against the rough fabric of Youngjae’s jeans. He should feel worse like this, but he feels better. Safe. 

Youngjae is confused. Daehyun is still and calm now. “Good boy,” he repeats again, and Daehyun ducks his head. 

He really just wanted to mess with him. He wasn’t expecting this. This is Daehyun, who snickers when Youngjae says ‘dick’ and likes to tell stupid, inane jokes. This is Daehyun, who gets prickly at the slightest hint of an insult. He wasn’t expecting Daehyun to go all calm and still and … obedient.

He waits. Daehyun doesn’t move. Youngjae can see his chest rise and fall. 

“Hey,” he whispers. He smooths his hand over Daehyun’s hair. Daehyun arches up into it. “Daehyun. Are you okay?” 

Daehyun nods, not looking up. 

“Can you stand up?” 

Daehyun nods again. 

Youngjae sighs. He wanted to _mess_ with Daehyun, but this is something totally different. 

Slowly he puts his hands under Daehyun’s arms and helps him to his feet. Daehyun stares at the floor and lets Youngjae lead him to the couch. Once there, he collapses onto Youngjae’s lap, feet curled under him and arms against his chest. 

They sit there for a long time, quiet, with Youngjae stroking Daehyun’s hair. It’s so strange, and so good, and weirdly intense. They normally never do anything like this. When they hook up it’s rough and fast and funny, with Daehyun teasing him and laughing and never shutting up. This quietness, this stillness -- this is strange. This is intimate. 

The next week is strange. They wake up, stiff from sleeping on the couch. Daehyun gives him a strange, unreadable look and gets up. They go about their little idol lives, and Youngjae keeps waiting. 

Because Daehyun had to have realized it, right? He’s going to want to talk about it and not do that thing he always does where he just ignores anything that’s messy or hard, right? He has to know that this isn’t just something they can ignore. 

But he’s Daehyun, so he never says anything and he shies away from all bodily contact with Youngjae, skittish and strange. Instead, he hangs off Jongup in dance practice and is chummy and joking around Himchan. He buys Junhong an ice cream treat and even once, awkwardly, slaps Yongguk on the back. 

Youngjae is annoyed and anxious. More than annoyed. He feels, somehow, like Daehyun is doing it intentionally. 

Like he wants Youngjae to make him apologize again. 

He would go about it in such a stupid, obtuse way. 

Daehyun’s luck runs out. One afternoon everyone else happens to be busy, and they’re left alone in the dorm together. Daehyun pretends to be busy with all sorts of chores he’d normally never do -- washing the dishes and putting a load of dirty towels in the machine and even feebly wiping at the toothpaste specked mirror over the bathroom sink. 

He’s standing there, in front of the sink, when Youngjae comes up to him and puts a hand on his shoulder to steady him. 

“So,” he says, “are we going to talk about it?” 

Daehyun frowns. “What?” 

“About last week. About how much you liked being on your knees for me.” Youngjae clears his throat. “About how bad you’ve been since then.” 

Daehyun looks down. Youngjae can feel him shudder.

“Hey,” he says. “Hey, it’s okay if you liked it, Daehyun. I liked it, too.” 

Daehyun frowns. “I was just tired” he says. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.” 

“Daehyun,” Youngjae says, running his hands up and down Daehyun’s arms to calm him. “Calm down. Tell me what you were thinking about when you were kneeling in front of me.” 

Daehyun squeezes his eyes shut, like he’s hurt. He is tense and stiff, holding himself away from Youngjae. Then, after a long moment, he says, “It felt good.” 

“Why?” 

“It felt good, doing what you wanted. Knowing I made you happy. That I was a good boy.” 

Youngjae half expects it, but it’s still a tingling, strange shock. This is Daehyun, who is rough and childish and vain, who says sappy things to his fans and listens to old terrible trot songs. This is Daehyun, who has always been so needy and always been embarrassed of it. 

It’s thrilling and gratifying and so, so intimate that he’s willing to let Youngjae see him like this. More intimate than fucking by far. This is something _secret_. “You are a good boy,” Youngjae says, rubbing his fingers over Daehyun’s neck. “You tried to make me mad, but I know you really want to make me happy, right?” 

Daehyun nods, curled and shy with his forehead pressed against Youngjae’s collarbone. 

Youngjae pauses for a second. This is it. Things are going to go one way right now or another. He clears his throat and says, “Uh, Dae, if this isn’t okay, you have to tell me, right?”

Daehyun doesn’t look up but he nods against Youngjae’s chest and that’s gotta be enough for now because Youngjae is thinking of what he wants Daehyun to do. What Daehyun will want to do.

“Stand up straight,” Youngjae says, “and look at me.” And Daehyun doesn’t, not at first. He moans in a mortified kind of way so Youngjae growls, “Daehyun.” He feels kind of dumb but it’s _so hot_ the way Daehyun goes still and steady suddenly and steps away to stand up straight with his hand by his side. Just Youngjae’s word did that. 

“Good boy,” Youngjae says again. (Fuck, he’s going to need a better  
vocabulary for this -- he doesn’t know what he’s doing. He wants to do well as much as Daehyun does.) “Good boy, Daehyun. You listened to me really well.” 

Daehyun can’t quite from smiling a cocky little smile. It thrills Youngjae.

“You can do better, though. I know you can.” Daehyun’s smile fades, and he blinks a few times. He’s not saying anything and it’s so weird, because Daehyun is never the quiet one, never at a loss for words. He never waits for Youngjae. But now … 

“I want you suck my dick,” Youngjae says, trying so hard not to let Daehyun see how this makes him want to squirm too, because it’s so new and strange and the power Daehyun is giving him is scary and amazing.

Daehyun gets to his knees with no hesitation at all. His fingers are scrambling at the button fly of Youngjae’s jeans and okay, mental note to stage this better next time because there’s not really any comfortable place to do this except with Youngjae leaning back against the wall. 

“Hang on a sec,” he says (world’s least sexy pause) and he walks backwards with his pants around his thighs. 

Daehyun is straight faced but Youngjae can see the mirth in his eyes. Good. That’s good. “Come here, Daehyun,” he says, and just like that he’s crawling forward on his knees until he’s right in front of Youngjae.

And like, this part isn’t new. Daehyun _likes_ to suck dick. He’s good at it and _his lips_. Youngjae’s dick is already heavy and swollen, and Daehyun mouths at it through his underwear. Youngjae is tempted just to lean back and close his eyes and let Daehyun do his thing but. But. They’ve done that and that’s not what this is about. So when Daehyun pushes the elastic of his boxers down Youngjae says, “Slowly. There’s no rush, Daehyun.”

The gentle rebuke frustrates Daehyun so much. Youngjae can see how close he comes to some snarky remark, how hard it is for him to restrain himself, so as Daehyun slowly takes  
him into his mouth (those lips …) Youngjae says, “That’s right. Good boy, Daehyun. That’s just right.” 

Daehyun’s cheeks are rosy, His plush lips are stretched around Youngjae’s dick -- he’s not huge, but he’s big enough, and it looks really good. 

“Put your hands behind your back,” Youngjae says. 

Daehyun does, slowly. Normally there’s something frantic and a bit jittery about his movements. He’s so much calmer like this, slow and intentional. He leans forward to take Youngjae in his mouth again, but it’s harder like this. Youngjae’s dick brushes his cheek, leaving a wet smear of precome. His eyelashes flutter. He wraps his lips around the head of Youngjae’s dick. 

“Good,” Youngjae says, trying hard to keep his voice steady. “You’re doing really well. You’re making me feel so good.” 

A long forelock falls in front of Daehyun’s face. Youngjae reaches down to brush it behind his ear. He then wipes at the glossy wet spot on Daehyun’s cheek with his thumb. Daehyun takes him in deeper, hollowing his cheek. It feels so good. 

“You don’t know how mad I was this week,” he says, in what he hopes is a conversational tone. “I got so mad, seeing you hang all over the other guys. I know you just did it to make me mad. So that I would pay attention to you.” 

Daehyun shudders as Youngjae’s cock nudges the roof of his mouth. His eyes are wet, watery, but his hands are still neatly clasped, wresting in the small of his back. Youngjae wishes that he’d thought to have Daehyun take his shirt off. He’d like to see the delicate line of the vertebrae in his long, curved back. 

“It’s okay,” Youngjae says, voice catching as Daehyun slides his tongue over the slit. “I know you can do better. I know you won’t do anything like that again. I know you want to be good.” 

Daehyun swallows. Youngjae’s hips nudge forward. His cheeks are red and he’s still and intent, sucking hard. Youngjae can see the bulge of the head of his cock. He shivers at the wet slide of Daehyun’s lips. He thinks he could get Daehyun to do anything he’d like right now. Daehyun would take him in so deep, deep until he’s gagging and choking and tears are running down his face. Youngjae could fuck into his hot, wet mouth. He could come all over Daehyun, if he wanted, all over his hair and his chest and his face. Daehyun would let him do all of that, and it’s hot and it’s fucking terrifying. 

Youngjae, red faced and chest heaving, tries to keep himself together. He knows that Daehyun looks _amazing_ , blown pupils and mussed hair and his red lips wrapped around Youngjae’s cock.

“Daehyun,” Youngjae says, and his voice is almost steady. “Dae. I’m going to come now.” He closes his eyes and he does, warm bright flame of pleasure spreading through his entire body. And Daehyun just sits there and takes it. His mouth is stretched wide and his lips are shiny wet with spit and a little of Youngjae’s come leaks out of the corner of and runs down his chin.

When Youngjae’s done Daehyun sits back on his heels, but he doesn’t move and doesn’t even wipe his mouth. His ears are red and there’s a big red splotch on his chest. Youngjae wipes himself off as well as he can and does up his jeans, and kneels down next to Daehyun. 

“You did really, really well,” he says. “You did so great. You made me feel awesome.” And Daehyun closes his eyes and arches his back and nearly vibrates at the praise. “You’re such a good boy.”

Youngjae strokes Daehyun’s hair. Daehyun is tense, thrumming, waiting so patiently with his hands folded, but he can’t conceal how eager he is, for praise and love and /to come/.

Youngjae stands up. Daehyun’s brow knits.

“Hey!” His eyes are dark and annoyed suddenly. “Where are you going? What about /me/?”

“You did well,” Youngjae says, “But you’re going to have to be a really good boy if that’s what you want.” He smirks. “You’ve got hands.”

Daehyun’s face goes even redder and Youngjae watches as he fights not to do something rash and stupid and totally Daehyun. 

He doesn’t. He breathes in so deeply and folds his hands again. Youngjae nods. “Good boy.”


End file.
